


This is Me

by xXQueenofDragonsXx



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accidental Dead Naming, Carl Grimes Lives, Coming Out, Family Feels, Father-Child Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Related, Genderfluid Carl Grimes, Genderfluid Character, Good Parent Rick Grimes, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, POV Rick Grimes, Parent Rick Grimes, Protective Rick, Sad Carl Grimes, and i don't regret it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:00:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29992155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXQueenofDragonsXx/pseuds/xXQueenofDragonsXx
Summary: Around a year or so after Negan's imprisonment, Rick is working on something late at night. Dead on his feet, he's prepared to turn in for the night and get some much needed sleep when Carl appears out of nowhere with something important to tell him.OrI'm annoyed at the lack of LGBTQIA+ characters in TWD universe, so I wrote a story for Genderfluid Carl to make up for it.
Relationships: Carl Grimes & Rick Grimes, Rick Grimes/Michonne (mentioned)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	This is Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slytherclaw2005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherclaw2005/gifts).



> Hello there! I hope you enjoy this little oneshot of mine. There is a severe lack of Carl Grimes fanfiction on this site, so I decided to write one of my own. But I want to tell any readers that, while I am indeed a part of the LGBTQIA+ community, I am not genderfluid so this may not be entirely accurate. If there's any misrepresentation in this fanfic, please tell me and I will try my best to fix it.
> 
> (Also this takes place a few days before the bridge explosion if anyone was wondering)
> 
> And I do not own TWD or any of the characters, because if I did we would have more gays and my favorite one-eyed pirate baby would have never died.

Rick yawns for what must have been the fifth time that night, scratching at his beard as he glares down at the sheet of paper spread out on the coffee table in front of him. It's more of a blueprint, if anything -- just a little something he's been working on over the past few days to help with repairing the broken bridge that leads to Hilltop. There are already quite a few people starting to work on it right now, but Rick feels as if there's something more that can be done, and now here he is, working his ass off hours past midnight while pushing away the exhaustion that is regularly threatening to overwhelm him.

He's working alone in the living room, not wanting to disturb Michonne, who is fast asleep upstairs. Or Carl and Judith, who are both incredibly light sleepers and would wake up at the drop of a pin or the creaking of a floorboard. Which is something that is both a blessing and a curse in a world like this one. Either way, he knows that everyone has been having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and he knows that once any of them wake up, going back to sleep is a task that is next to impossible, and Rick doesn't want to be the reason his family doesn't get a good night's sleep. Especially with how tense things have been lately. 

Rick taps the pencil he's using against his thigh, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he stares down at the blueprint he's spent pretty much all night working on, illuminated by a pair of candles Rick had placed on the edges of the coffee table a few hours ago. He's currently trying to figure out the number of supplies they would need to finish the bridge -- how many trees they need to chop down for wood, how many nails they need Earl and Alden to make to put everything together, things like that. It's grueling work, and he wants to take a break more than anything else, but this is something he needs to do. And Rick won't stop till he's done. 

Plus, it's not like he hasn't pulled all-nighters before. Rick used to do them all the time before he got shot (and the world went to shit.) It used to drive Lori insane, something he had always been quite guilty about, but being a cop had come with a shit ton of paperwork that he couldn't just shove to the side and ignore. He had to get those papers done, just like how he needs to get this blueprint done so they can complete the bridge construction as soon as possible.

And it's not like he can just put it off or wait till later because... because this bridge... it's going to help change things -- this bridge is going to make things better. It'll make trade between the communities (or, more specifically, Hilltop) a hundred times easier than it currently is. The time it takes to travel between each community will be cut in  _ half -- _ something that might save someone's life in the future. So Rick needs to get this blueprint done, and he needs to get it done soon. 

Preferably by the time the sun rises. 

But a few more minutes pass, and Rick makes no new changes to the blueprint. His mind is totally drained of any kind of ideas, and no matter how hard he tries to summon another one, nothing but static comes up. Rick resists the urge to swear and throw the pencil into the wall -- he is an adult, and he isn't going to be acting like some kind of ill-tempered child just because things aren't going his way. Instead, Rick gently places the pencil down on top of the paper and rubs a hand over his face, yet another tired sigh escaping his lips. 

God... being a leader is a tiring job. 

Don't get him wrong; he loves his people and community. Really, he does. But sometimes, Rick just wishes he had a less... time consuming job. Wishes he had more time to spend with his family, with his wife and children. But there aren't many others he trusts with Alexandria's wellbeing (who actually  _ want  _ the job), so all Rick can do is suck it up and try and get things done in the best manner possible. Plus, it's always satisfying to see how things kind of just... click together when they go the right way, when so much hard work  _ finally  _ pays off. So it's not  _ that  _ bad in the end. 

Stressful at times, sure. But that doesn't mean it didn't have its perks. 

Rick leans back, letting himself slump against the soft couch he's been sitting on for the past few hours, but he doesn't dare close his eyes for more than a single second. If he gives in to  _ that  _ temptation, then chances are he'll just fall asleep on the couch, and that is currently the opposite of what Rick needs right now. What Rick needs is to get this blueprint done. And soon. But glaring at it all night isn't going to do that for him. 

That certainly doesn't stop him. 

Rick continues to glare at the paper on the coffee table anyway. It's kind of therapeutic. (Is that weird?)

It's probably weird.

He lets his head fall back, and he stares up at the ceiling, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut as the minutes slowly wear on. Second after second. Minute after minute. The sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation doesn't fail to make him laugh either. The fact that he's sitting around doing paperwork of all things (well, not paperwork, but Rick doesn't really have a better name for it) during the end of the world is hilarious in its own weird way. And the fact that there are so many other problems he should be dealing with (Like their current food supply, which they're actually pretty good on) just makes it ten times better. (Worse?)

But even if it's nothing like clearing out walkers or going on a supply run, this blueprint still might save lives in the future. And yet... it's so tiring. Everything has to be written down; the writing has to be neat so others can actually read what it says (which is harder than it sounds), and no gun or knife could help him if he gets even the slightest bit of information wrong. 

"Dad?"

Jumping slightly at the sudden voice, Rick turns his head, more than a little surprised to see his son standing there in the living room doorway, staring at Rick with the oddest of expressions on his face. Dark hair that he inherited from Lori falls around Carl's eye (and eye socket) in a thick curtain, tangled and messy from sleep, and the teen shuffles his feet nervously, lips twisting into an oh too familiar frown as Rick's gaze falls upon him. 

"Carl, what are you doing up so late?" Rick asks once he gets over his surprise, "did I wake you?" How long had Carl been standing there anyway? How did Rick not hear him coming down the stairs? Or coming over to the living room doorway? Rick doesn't know. Maybe he's more out of his element than he initially thought. 

"No, I... You didn't wake me." Rick watches as Carl takes a hesitant step forward, absentmindedly playing with a loose piece of fabric in his dark gray pajama pants, something that he only does when he's in deep thought about something. "I couldn't sleep, that's all..." The teen's face is twisted into an expression of anxiousness and a hint of fear. This only causes a frown to appear on Rick's face. Something is clearly wrong here. 

"Carl, is everything alright?" He calls out softly, using the calming tone of voice he usually did whenever Carl got stressed about something, but instead of having the desired effect, his son flinches back. Rather violently, at that. This only further deepens Rick's worry. 

For a second, he wonders if Carl's about to bolt. If he's about to run back to his room and hide there for the rest of the night. Because that's sure as hell what it looks like. But then, slowly, ever so slowly, his son starts making his way over, rounding the couch before sinking down into the spot beside Rick, pretty much refusing to meet his gaze and instead staring down at the ground, head bowed, eye closed, and hands clasped neatly in his lap. After that, Carl doesn't make any indication of being even remotely aware of Rick's presence. He just sits there, fear and nervousness marring his face. 

Not for the first time, Rick's fatherly side starts screaming at him, ordering him to find out the source of Carl's fear and nervousness and get rid of it once and for all. But he doesn't. A heavy silence falls over the pair, and despite the nearly suffocating worry that threatens to overwhelm him, Rick knows at this point that if Carl wants to say something, then he'll tell him in his own time. It's better not to force the issue. So he sits there, silent, all thoughts of the blueprint and the bridge being pushed to the very back of his mind as he stares at his son, not bothering to hide his concern.

The seconds passed by like hours. And yet, neither of them makes an attempt to break the near suffocating silence that had fallen between them. Rick awkwardly scratches at his beard, wondering if maybe it would be best if he starts talking first. 

But then-

"I... I need to talk to you about something," Carl whispers into the darkness, voice sounding so small and terrified that it shatters a piece of Rick's heart into two. He can hardly remember the last time he's seen Carl look so vulnerable. His son is one of the strongest people he knows at this point, so to see him look like this only sets off hundreds of alarm bells in Rick's mind. 

"Did something happen? Are you alright?" Rick asks, concern painting his features. All sorts of horrible scenarios flicker through his brain, one after another. He reaches out, carefully resting a hand on Carl's shoulder, who still refuses to look him in the eye. 

"I'm fine, Dad. Really." Rick raises a brow, not convinced. Carl winces, finally opening his eye and lifting his head. But he still doesn't meet Rick's gaze. "I just... I-" his eye darts over to the blueprint spread out on the coffee table, and he gives a small shake of his head, speaking in a much quieter voice now, "...it... it can wait if you're busy."

"I'm not busy," Rick tells him almost instantly, keeping a hand on his son's shoulder to keep him from running off. Because right now, getting that blueprint done is the very last thing on his mind. "Carl," he says in a quieter tone, taking note of the small flinch Carl gives as soon as his name leaves Rick's mouth, "is something wrong?"

"I-" Carl blinks his remaining eye furiously, hands shaking. Rick feels his stomach drop when he sees the lone tear slowly trailing down his cheek. Carl... Carl's crying?

"Look at me," Rick says softly. And, though it takes a few seconds, Carl complies, and Rick takes his son's hand in his own, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Carl... what's wrong?"

"I need to tell you something," Carl says, repeating his earlier words, but this time, his voice is weak and shaky, "something really,  _ really  _ important."

Rick's frown deepens, and he gives Carl's hand another squeeze, urging him to go on. "Okay..."

"I'm not a boy," Carl whispers, forcing his (no... not his) gaze away from Rick's the very moment the words leave their lips. The teen's body begins to shake more and more, either from fear, nerves, or a mix of both of those, and it only grows worse as the seconds wore on without any kind of reaction from Rick. And then, as if a dam had broken, the tears start pouring down Carl's face in waves, and Rick feels his heart crack a little bit more at the expression of fear that is marring the teen's features. 

And then, the words sink in.

"I don't..." A frown pulls at Rick's lips, his tired mind still struggling to comprehend just what Carl had said. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, everything clicks together, and Rick's eyes widen.

_ Oh. _

_ OH. _

Rick stares over at Carl, who still refuses to meet his gaze, instead letting their head hang and their hair falls in front of their face to shield their expression. The teen's body continues to shake and shake, their one eye squeezed shut even as more tears start to fall, and they slowly curl in on themself, almost as if they are preparing for something to strike them. And then, even if it takes him a few seconds, Rick soon realizes with a numbing sense of horror that being hit is what Carl was expecting. 

Christ...

"I'm sorry..." Carl whispers, crying. "I'm sorry... I... I-" a choked sob escapes their slips, and then another, and another, stopping Carl from getting another word out, and slowly, ever so slowly, Rick pulls Carl into a hug, rubbing circles into the small of their back as their body shakes with muffled sobs. And although Carl tenses up at first, the teen slowly relaxes into his arms, and Rick holds them until their cries descend into the occasional sniffle. And even then, Rick doesn't pull away from the hug, and neither does Carl.

Rick isn't going to pretend this isn't foreign territory for him. Because it is. 

And here's the thing, Rick likes to think of himself as an accepting person -- Aaron and Eric have always been his friends, and Jesus (while a little bit of a jokester) is someone Rick trusts with his life. Tara is probably one of the funniest and strongest people he knows, and he personally has no problem with anyone in the LGBTQ+ community as long as they don't try to kill him or anyone he loves. Hell, even he often finds himself admiring the beauty of other men from time to time (because men can be hot as hell too). Still, Rick had never once felt the things Carl is feeling right now. And he probably never will. 

"So..." he starts as tentatively as he can, combing his fingers through Carl's hair, "you're a girl then?" 

Carl, from where they have their face buried in Rick's shirt, shakes their head. "N..no. I'm not a girl either," they mumble, voice muffled, "I don't... it's..." they pull away from the hug, rubbing at the wetness on their face as their lips twitch into a frown. "Sometimes I feel like a girl, and other times I feel like a boy, but sometimes..." they bite their lip and glance to the window, looking almost unsure, "sometimes I don't feel like either."

"Okay..." Rick reaches out, wiping away a stray tear from Carl's face with his thumb before letting his hand drop back down to his lap, "you're genderfluid?" That's the correct term for it, right? Rick thinks it is, but he might be wrong. 

"I-" Carl pauses, taking in a deep albeit shaky breath before nodding, "yeah..."

There's a beat of silence. Then another. And another. Then, Carl leans into Rick's shoulder, a frown pulling at their lips as they stare down at their lap. After a second or two, Rick wraps a supportive arm around his s- no, child. (That's going to take a bit of getting used to, Rick realizes, but he'll try his best.) He wraps an arm around his child's shoulders, letting Carl lean into him for comfort as they used to do when they were younger. Rick misses those days sometimes -- the times where his only worries were work and how to best support his family. But he finds that it's easier not to dwell on the past. 

For a while, the pair simply sits like that, the silence comfortable between them, peaceful and calm, and not nearly as suffocating as it had been minutes before.

"You... you aren't mad?" Carl asks after around ten or so minutes, peering up at Rick through an anxious eye. 

"Mad?" He echoes, eyebrows knitting together as he contemplates Carl's questions. "No. A little surprised, but not mad." Rick glances down at Carl, running a hand up and down their arm soothingly as a question leaves his mouth. "How long have you known...?"

Carl tilts their head, frowning as they process the question. "A couple years..." they say after a beat of silence, "I felt like this for a while, but it wasn't until we came to Alexandria that I knew for sure." 

"Do you want me to use different pronouns for you?" Rick asks, glancing around the near pitch black living room, "like they/them? Or is there another set of pronouns you'd prefer?" 

"It depends on the day... usually they/them though," Carl explains with a small shrug. "Do you think we can find some pronoun pins too? Michonne was telling me about them, and I just... y'know..." they shrug again, a hopeful expression now covering their features as they look up at Rick.

Rick smiles down at Carl, nodding. "I'll see what I can do. And if we can't find any, we can always ask Earl to make some." Then, he tilts his head, raising an eyebrow as he realizes what else Carl had said, "Michonne knows?"

A sheepish smile crosses Carl's face. "Yeah, she found out a couple months ago." The smile on their face falls a couple moments later, and they sigh, pressing their nose into his shirt, "I'm sorry for not telling you sooner... I was just-" Carl cuts themself off, silent for a beat or two before sighing again "-I got scared."

Rick's face softens. Then, he straightens up and pulls Carl into another hug. Immediately, Carl throws their arms around Rick's middle, face pressed into Rick's chest and tears already starting to seep through the fabric of Rick's shirt. "I'll love you no matter what, Carl. Nothing will ever change that," he whispers into the darkness, "Is there anything else I could do for you?"

"Yes, actually..." they glance up at him for a moment, drawing their lip in between their teeth as they mull over what they want to say, "can... could you stop calling me Carl?"

Rick doesn't waste a second in agreeing to the request, nodding his head as he combs his fingers through their hair. "Of course," he says, "is there another name you want to be called?"

"Charlie," they respond without missing a beat, "I thought about it for a while. And I really like the name Charlie. It's... more gender-neutral than Carl is." 

"Charlie Grimes," Rick echoes, testing the name on his tongue, "it suits you." 

A smile pulls at Ca- no, Charlie's lips. "Michonne helped me pick it out..." they say into Rick's shirt, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, s-" Rick hesitates, eyebrows furrowing as Charlie hugs him tighter, "...child?"

Charlie lets out a watery laugh, though there's a grin pulling at their lips. "Michonne's been calling me her eldest spawn," they say helpfully, and Rick can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Of course she has," he says, smiling fondly because that sounds just like something Michonne would do, "and Charlie?"

Charlie's head snaps up, and they stare up at him, their one remaining eye brimming with curiosity.

"Yeah?"

Rick brushes the hair out of their face, pressing a kiss to his child's forehead. "Your mother would be so proud of you."

Charlie obviously hadn't been expecting to burst into tears again that night, but they do, and yet this time, they're tears of joy, and Rick just hugs them even tighter. 


End file.
